Void
by CreepyGhostQueen
Summary: I was supposed to die first I wasn't supposed to be left without him It's not supposed to be like this My best friend John Watson is dead Sherlock Holmes
1. Chapter 1

_John Watson was a good man, no, no, a great man_

_He spent years of service as a military doctor_

_Only to come back to help people even more_

_He left a lasting impact on everyone he came in contact with_

_~Greg Lestrade_

_John was a wonderful husband to me_

_A loving father to Reign_

_He loved through all imperfections_

_His love will never be forgotten_

_~Mary Watson_

_I grew up with John_

_We studied together_

_I knew this man would amount to great things_

_I'm heartily sorry to see him leave so soon_

_~Mike Stamford_

_I hadn't known John very well_

_But I knew him enough to tell he cared_

_And he did everything in his power to show it_

_Condolences to Mary and Reign_

_~Irene Adler_

_Dr John Watson was wise_

_He knew more than he let on_

_He wasn't a big part of my life_

_But he did leave a mark on me_

_John will be missed greatly_

_~Mycroft Holmes_

_My brothers memory will live on_

_Through his loving wife_

_His beautiful daughter_

_And his amazing friends_

_Thank you all for protecting my little brother_

_~Harriet Watson_

_John was pretty funny_

_And even if he didn't like you_

_He at least acted like it_

_Thanks for acting buddy_

_~Philip Anderson  
__

_I've never met a man like John_

_He wasn't ordinary_

_He was, the ideal friend_

_And we are all lucky to have known him_

_~Sally Donavon_

_It's hard to accept that he's gone_

_John was just so lively_

_Such a caring, kind person_

_His loss is devastating on everyone_

_I think I speak for us all when I say "we love him"_

_~Molly Hooper_

_John was like a son to me_

_I worried about him_

_I can't believe he's not coming back_

_None of us will be the same without him_

_~Martha Hudson_

_John was a great man_

_A great doctor_

_A great soldier_

_A great friend_

_~General James Sholto_

_I was supposed to die first_

_I wasn't supposed to be left without him_

_It's not supposed to be like this_

_My best friend John Watson is dead_

_~Sherlock Holmes_

It was a soldiers funeral. The casket was made of deep mahogany and draped with the British flag. The casket bearers carried it through the rain, from the hearse to the rectangular hole dug six feet into the ground. The stone at the head of the grave was black marble with the words John Watson, M.D 1974-2015 engraved into the slab.

Johns friends, family, and colleagues stood under a thin black tarp as the preacher said his parting words. One by one they walked by, placing a flower over the flag and saying their final goodbyes, tears streaming down each and every face. Mary held their young daughter over the casket as she hugged the flag tight, longing for her daddy.

The casket was lowered into the ground as dirt began to cover it, burying Johns body but not his memory nor his spirit. Tears continued to be shed as the funeral ended with a twenty-one gun solute to the former military doctor.

The crowd thinned out gradually, until simply Sherlock was left at the freshly filled grave. He placed this hand in the stone, similar to the way he had watched John speak to him when he faked his death. Sherlock swallowed his pain and spoke slowly. "John-John, I'm sorry I couldn't save you-I'm sorry I wasn't there, I'm sorry John." He sank to his knees onto the patted dirt and let his face sink into his hands. "I failed you."

Sherlock had known John was sick, but he didn't know it was life threatening, nobody had known. It started with a simple cold, but it didn't end, got progressively worse day by day, only a few days before his passing however his symptoms subsided, giving hope to them all. But it stuck back hard, killing him almost instantly, while Sherlock was off struggling on a case. John had died surrounded by those who loved him, but Sherlock hadn't been their. John last words would be "Sherlock" muttered in his dying breath.

There was a slight tap on Sherlocks shoulder as a young toddler reached out to him. He took Reign from Mary as she knelt beside him. "I know it hurts Sherlock" she rested her head on his shoulder.

Sherlock hugged Reign, she was barley sixteen months old, a girl who had grown up by her fathers example. Sherlocks goddaughter. She looked at him, with the same deep brown eyes as her father had. "Unkey Sheryuck?" She asked him, her voice soft and sweet.

"Yes Rey?" Sherlock collected himself as Mary cried on his shoulder.

"Where da-da?"

Sherlocks eyes watered again and his voice shook. "Da-da went bye-bye Rey, da-da went to heaven."

"When I go?"

"When you are older" Sherlock struggled for words, he usually had an easy time speaking to children but now he chocked on every word he spoke. "Da-da is safe there, he's watching over you Rey, he's watching over your ma-ma"

"Even you unkey Sheryuck?"

"Even me." He could no longer control his tears as he let them flow onto his face.

Thunder struck the air as the rain fell harder. Mary picked up Reign. "Let's go home baby." She turned to Sherlock. "Need a ride?" He shook his head and struggled to get to his feet. "Stay safe Sherlock." She stretched up to kiss his forehead as they embraced in a hug. Without words Mary and Reign ran to the last remaining taxi.

Sherlock remained at the grave for a minute before beginning on his long walk home. As he walked he past familiar locations he was bombarded with memories of Johns voice.

_Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way_

_That's fantastic!_

_Stop it! We can't giggle at a crime scene._

The memories flooded in from their first encounter, Sherlock continued to walk in the rain, tears filling his eyes.

_You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk._

He missed John greatly. Their time spent together had been the best of Sherlocks life.

_Yeah, of course you are. Course. You're my best friend_

Some made him laugh.

_I always hear "punch me in the face" when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext._

_Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?_

Others made him cry harder.

_SHUT UP! And stay shut up because this is not funny. Not this time._

_But please, there's just one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me, don't be...dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this_

Sherlock fell to his knees outside of 221b. He had lost all motivation to continue into the flat. He let the rain engulf him. People passed him, looking down at the man assuming he was drunk or had been thrown out by his partner. Sherlock didn't move, he simply laid in the rain and cried, letting his sorrow overwhelm him.

Without John Sherlock was only half the man he had been. John had shaped him into a better person, and together they made a perfect team. The team was now broken and so was Sherlock.

His heart raced in pain as he gripped his chest, a burning rage filled through him. "Fuck!" He screamed. "Fuck you!" He looked into the rain and shouted at the sky. "Fuck you for taking him from me!" He shouted to a god he didn't believe in. "I loved him!" He began to pound the sidewalk with his fist. Shouting and swearing, his vision obstructed by tears, he hit the pavement until his hand were scraped and bloody. He rolled to his side and curled into a ball, watching the rain fall onto the street as the sun set.

Darkness fell and Sherlock still lay, awake and motionless, letting the rain wash away all his pain and regret. He half expected John to walk up to him and pull him up, take him into 221B and complain about how he had been out getting milk, or start talking about his family. Sherlock longed for his only true friend to come back.

He rolled onto his stomach and did something he had never done before. He began to pray. He didn't believe in god, but he felt guilty for the raging before. He spoke softly through his lips. "Take care of him" he begged. "Even as an angel he might get hurt" Sherlock prayed for guidance as well, for help getting on with his life, a life he now believed was over.

"I'm insane" he spoke as the rain fell onto his face. "John, I'm sorry I wasn't there. I misplaced my priorities." He paused and swallowed hard. "Give me a sign John, give me a sign you forgive me" He waited for a moment in silence as the rain subsided. "Thank you" he weeped.

The London air was chilly and Sherlocks drench clothes didn't help. Despite the cold he remained, occasionally talking to himself, hoping John would hear his vigorous apologies. Sherlock tried convincing himself this was simply a dream, a horrible nightmare, but no matter how hard he tried he could not wake up.

John was dead. Sherlock didn't want to accept it but it was true. He had died from a sickness, he died asking for him, he died thinking about him, he died without him. John had been with Sherlock through all his problems, his troubles, his every struggle, but Sherlock was too self centered to be with John in his dying moments.

Mary told Sherlock that John had died happy, but Sherlock could tell she was lying. The corners of her mouth had turned down and her posture shifted slightly to the left. Sherlock knew John had been miserable, waiting as long as possible to let go, waiting for him to arrive. He took the guilt hard, blaming himself for everything. For not being there, for believing he had been getting better, he even blamed himself for his death, something he had no control over.

Sherlock pulled at his hair and screamed as loud as he could. Letting out his hatred of himself. If anyone deserved to be dead it would be him and not John. Sherlock had done far worse things in his life than John had even dreamed about doing. Screaming louder Sherlock hit the pavement again, his hand ripping open and bleeding onto the pavement. He wrapped his scarf over the open gash and lay crying, not from the pain of his hand, but rather from the pain of losing his best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh my god! Sherlock?"

Sherlock opened his eyes to see Reign standing over him. Mary was by his side in an instant, kneeling on the pavement and examining his wrapped bloody hand. Sherlock groaned as she touched it. "What did you do?" She asked quickly helping him to his feet.

"I was upset" he groaned, following Mary up the step to 221B.

"Do you have your key?"

"No" he lied, too incoherent to search for it.

Mary rang the door bell and picked up Reign.

"Oh deary have you seen Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson whined as she opened the door. "He hasn't been home all night"

"Don't worry I have him." Mary maneuvered to reveal Sherlock behind her. "Needs a bit of fixing up though"

Mrs Hudson moved aside, letting the three of them into the flat and upstairs while she remained downstairs, minding her own business. Mary set Reign on the couch and brought Sherlock to his room. They sat on the bed as she unwrapped his scarf from his hand. "The hell did you do to yourself?"

"Nothing" Sherlock clenched his teeth together, as Mary was forced to pry the scarf from his partially healed wounded. She rewrapped it with a thin whit bandage after rinsing it with warm water. Mary ordered Sherlock to change out of his wet clothes and into something dry and warm, she went to the kitchen and began making breakfast.

Sherlock sat on his bed shirtless, his head fell into his hands as he let out silent tears. He missed John, Sherlock had never felt this much pain in his life, not even when he had been shot. He felt as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He changed into new pants but didn't bother with a shirt.

Sherlock made his way into the kitchen and grabbed the blue cup of coffee Mary had made for him. He brought it with him to the couch as he plopped down beside Reign. Reign stared at him, wondering why he sat with grey sweatpants and no shirt, Reign had always seen Sherlock dressed up, and looking sophisticated, never had she seen him this run down.

"That's enough" Mary took his coffee and set it beside him. She forced him off the couch and back into his room. She shut the door and blocked it, crossing her arms she glared at Sherlock. "There is a not even two year old out there, her father is dead, and you Sherlock, are her role model! Now clean up your act!" Sherlock looked up at her tears filling his eyes. "I'm not moving until you put a shirt on"Sherlock walked to his closet and grabbed out a simple purple dress shirt, he slid off his pants as well and changed into a better pair. He stood up and held out his arms. "That's my boy" Mary smiled and hugged him.

Together they walked back into the kitchen and she continued to work on making his meal. Sherlock walked over and picked up Reign. "When da-da coming?" She asked with a smile.

"Da-da went bye-bye remember?" Sherlock fought to hold himself together.

"No" Reign shook her head.

Sherlock hugged Reign and sat down placing her on his place facing him. "Look at me Reign." He paused. "Your da-da isn't coming back Reign, da-da is gone"

"Where da-da go?"

"Da-da is in heaven" Shelrock pointed above him. "Heaven is a happy place."

"Is heben real?"

"Yes" Sherlock said to her although he didn't believe it. "And da-da is watching, like I said yesterday Reign he's looking after us" he paused. "But he's gonna stay there"

"Why da-da stay?"

Sherlock let a single tear roll down his face. "He has to" he hugged Reign as his break slowly broke.

"Breakfast" Mary called cheerfully, piercing through the veil of sadness. Sherlock carried Reign to the table. There were three plates with scrambled eggs and toast on them. The three of them sat together and began to eat in silence. For a moment Sherlock simply poked the fluff yep yellow eyes with his fork. He wasn't hungry, but he knew John would've forced him to eat it. After all he hadn't eaten in days. He finally took a bite of he eggs. They were warm as they slid down his throat. He hadn't had decent food in quite a long time.

"Besides the hand how was your night?" She asked.

"Wet" he mumbled and coughed slightly. "Yours?"

"Empty" she focused back on her food.

"Unkey Sheryuck I wan pay!" Reign begged as she threw her hands in the air.

"We'll play after you eat." He smiled slightly. His hand began to throb as he finally let himself relax. He could feel the blood flowing in and out of the wound as his body attempted to heal itself.

As Reign finished her food she stumbled into the living room and fell to the floor, playing with Sherlocks skull. Sherlock and Mary remained at the table, slowly chocking down their food. "John would've loved this" Mary smiled. "Us all spending time together."

Sherlock remained focused on his still full plate. Mary's words flew over his head, the only word he caught was John. He held in his pain as he pushed his food away from him like a child and crawled across the floor to Reign.

Mary watched them play, in her mind seeing Sherlock as John. She thought about how good of a father Sherlock would be, collecting his own pain inside to protect Reign. He held a smile on his face while he made up a voice and spoke to her through the skull. Reign laughed and seemed so happy. Mary had the feeling she would be coming here more often.

Her late had and however didn't leave her mind. She constantly thought about how he would want her to act in the situation of his death but she never expected it to happen so soon. Her heart was torn, but for the sake of her daughter she had to hold herself together, she had been through this before, but it hadn't hit her as hard as this had. With John she had been Mary, with John she had tried her best to be good with John she should've have deserved this, not this time.

Mary jumped as she finally noticed Sherlock beside her. "You need to talk." He said, noticing her body posture.

"I'm fine Sherlock." She shrugged. "Just don't know what to do"

"Need to stay here?" Sherlock offered, simply for the protection of Reign. "There's another bedroom upstairs."

"That would be wonderful." After all she would no longer be able to afford her own flat. She flung her arms around Sherlock as he hesitantly hugged her back. "Thank you Sherlock,would you mind watching Reign, just while I run and get what we need."

He nodded and Mary quickly scuttled out of the apartment. Reign reached her arms up, begging for Sherlock to hold her. This he did and paced the flat, rocking her as they walked. Reign slowly drifted off to sleep and Sherlock set her on her fathers chair. He sat in his and folded his hands, keeping himself as collected as he could. "I promise to keep her safe" he cried out to John. "I promise to keep them both safe" and with that he fell into a slump, letting his tears drench his face and hands.

He watched Reign sleep peacefully in Johns chair, wishing for John to be sitting there again like he had before. He wanted to be a team again, he wanted his best friend back. He had gone two years without John, but now had only been a few days and he felt lost, lonely, void. John was his better half, John had been a miracle to Sherlock, he took his life and changed it, causing him happiness, and excitement, but now he was gone, and he wasn't coming back. This wasn't a trick, an illusion, like the one Sherlock had pulled. No, this was real, this was death and John was really gone. Gone from his life and gone from this world.

Sherlock had heard a out the idea of ghosts, of the supernatural, he never believed it. It always had an alternate explanation. But believe it or not Sherlock longed to see the spirit of John. To simply see him again, to hear his voice, to know that he was alright, to be forgiven. Sherlock knew however that it would never happen. He would never see John again, or hear his voice projected through his own mouth, he would never be able to spend another moment with his best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock raced after John. Screaming at him to turn around, to pay attention to him. But John continued to run, staying just out of arms reach of Sherlock no matter how fast Sherlock ran. He yelled at John, screaming apologies and compliments. John however kept running, saying not a single word.

"John!" Sherlock awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding and his breathe deep and forced. He sat up and walked out to the kitchen, leaning on the counter he poured himself a glass of water.

"Sherlock?" Mary asked from the doorway as she tightened the string around her robe. "I heard your scream."

"Sorry." He muttered and took a drink. His heart was still racing.

Mary didn't say a word, she simply walked up to him and wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. Sherlock rested his bandaged hand on hers and rubbed it gently with his thumb. "I know you miss him Sherlock." She rested her head on his bare chest. "But that won't bring him back, he's gone and we have to live with it."

Sherlock simply stared at the wall, swallowing more of his water and holding onto Mary. He felt confused, he didn't know what to do. Gently he shrugged off Mary. "I think I'm going for a walk."

Mary smiled and let him go. "Be safe Sherlock."

He grabbed his coat and threw it on over his grey sweatpants. It was late but cool, the weather didn't bother him much tonight. He raced quickly to Bart's hospital. He wasn't quite sure why but he found himself stumbling up the stairs and onto the roof, a place he was quite familiar with. He stood beside the edge and slowly stepped onto it.

Last time he had been there he had been talking to John,and this time would be the same. He looked down at the street below him and spoke. "I'm here John." He shouted. "I need you!" Once again he let his tears flow. "John please!" He sobbed. "I need you"

_Goodbye John_

His supposed final words raced through his head but was quickly replaced by new words.

_Hello John_

Sherlock stared at the street, he has done it once,this time would only be slightly different, instead of living, he would die. He took in a deep breath and filled his longs with the chilled air. He stepped closer to the edge of the building, his feet extending past slightly and hanging into the air.

"Sherlock step back." A familiar voice rang from behind him. The voice of John.

Sherlock kept his eyes focused to the pavement below. "You're just a fragment of my imagination."

"Even so." The voice if John got louder. "You can't do this to them, any of them."

Sherlock turned to see John standing only a few feet away. "John" he cried. John held out his hand and Sherlock took it as he helped him off the edge and onto the safety off the roof. Although he knew this was all in his mind he wrapped his arms around John, letting his tears fall onto Johns chest. "I'm so sorry John."

"I forgive you" John spoke the words Sherlock had been longing to hear as he disappeared, leaving Sherlock alone on the roof.

He quickly made his way back to the flat, he had no idea howling he had been gone for but he knew this would remain his secret, his close attempt at suicide, and his vision of John. Both would remained locked away deep in his mind palace.

Back at the flat Mary had been waiting for him, as soon as he stepped int he door her arms flung around him and she kissed his cheek. "I was getting worried." She mumbled as they walked upstairs. "I made you coffee"

"Thank you." He forced a smile.

"How was your walk?"

"Thoughtful."

The conversation fell flat as it tended to do with the two of them. Neither however could sleep, they simply sipped their coffee together in silence. They both missed John, they both wanted him back, they both knew that was impossible.

Sherlock and Mary had met through John, when Sherlock revealed himself after his two year death charade. Mary had been fascinated by him. His ability to read her, to remain mysterious and abnormally melancholy. But how she watched him fall apart in front of her.

Sherlock fell to the floor screaming, hitting the carpet repeatively. Mary attempted to hold her back but stopped as soon as Sherlocks hand nearly hit her face in his fit. Reign cried from upstairs causing Mary to race up as Sherlocks mental attack subsided into a fit of soundless tears.

Mary returned after a moment and gently rubbed his back, shushing him and reassuring him he was alright. Sherlock however recalled only his true last moment with John.

John had been recovering quite well from his sick, his white blood cell count had begun to lessen, meaning a lesser need to fight off viruses. John had a smile on his face and so did Sherlock.

"go catch us a killer" John laughed. "Before you know it I'll be back and we can fight this immorality together."

"I'll be back later" Sherlock had groaned, not wanting a simple goodbye to be drawn out. "Take care"

"I'll be waiting"

And with those words Sherlock had left. Holding an empty promise he wouldn't keep.

Mary continued to comfort him until they both drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

"Some idiot was on St Bart's last night, just stopping by to make sure it wasn't this idiot!" Sherlock was awoken by the voice of detective inspected Lestrade.

"He was here all night." Mary lied, crossing her arms and looking down at Sherlock.

"Why is he sleeping on the floor?"

"It's been a rough few days for us Greg." Marys voice was stern. "I don't think you understand."

"I know that's it's hard, I knew John too Mary, but mopping around won't change anything."

"Leave the girl alone." Sherlock groaned as he sat up. "Why are you here?"

"Checking up on you two." Greg smiled. "Just making sure you are alright."

"We are fine now leave." Sherlock stood up and gestured to the door.

"So are you two a thing now?" Anderson's voice rang from behind the door.

"Anderson?" Sherlock groaned. "Leave!"

"Stay safe." Greg spoke then left with Anderson trailing behind like a lost puppy.

"Where's Reign?" Sherlock asked, stretching his arms above his head.

"Still in bed, you can go wake her." Mary smiled and threw Sherlock a dark grey shirt to throw on.

He pulled himself up the stairs that had previously let to Johns room. A full size bed covered in black sheets, a wardrobe and a desk were all the room held. Sherlock sat on the bed beside the curled up toddler. He brushed her soft blond hair out of her face and noticed a small bump protruding from the back of her neck. "Mary!" He shouted with a tone of concern.

"What's is it?" Mary rushed up the stairs. Sherlock held the hair back from the bump. Mary stared at it with a look of fear in her eyes. She crawled onto the bed and looked over her sleeping child. "Reign" he held back tears. "Reign baby?"

Reign slowly opened her eyes and stretched. "Ma-ma" she held out her arms.

Mary held her in a tight hug before turning to Sherlock. "Go get a taxi."

Mary held tight onto Sherlocks hand as they sat alone in the emergency waiting room. Reign had been taken in immediately and was suffering through test after test, scan after scan, her blood being drawn every twenty minutes. Sherlock and Mary were told to wait, that it should only be a moment. However they had been sitting in the same black leather chairs for over four hours.

Mary's tears stained Sherlocks coat as she sobbed on his shoulder, worried to death about her daughter. Sherlock too was worried, Reign was after all like a child to him as well. He remained strong however, he knew John would've wanted him to. He kept his head high and let Mary rest her head on him.

"Mr and Mrs Watson?" A stout doctor appeared before them.

"Act-"

"Yes" Mary interrupted Sherlock. Quickly she wiped her eyes.

"Follow me please" he led them to a small office. Sherlock and Mary sat across the desk from the doctor. "Your daughter" he spoke slowly. "She has an inoperable tumor on her brain stem" Mary gasped. "Don't worry ma'am it does not seem to be cancerous and it should not cause her any complications other than a slight discomfort. You may take her home, if out test find anything I will be sure to call you."

"Thank you doctor." Mary stood up and shook his hand then left. Leaving Sherlock alone in the room.

Sherlock raced after her "Mary?"

She sopped in her tracks and turned to him. "Sherlock." She paused. "You've done so much for me, but please leave." She turned and continued after the doctor.

Sherlock stood for a moment, comprehending what had just happened. Mary had left him, his last remembrance of John. He wasn't quite sure why Mary had said that, but he didn't question it. Keeping his head up he left the hospital and made him way slowly to Johns grave.

Sherlock knelt on the freshly planted grass. He placed his hand on the heavy stone. "Hello John." He spoke calmly. "The doctors said Reign will be alright." he sighed, falling against the grave. "I don't know what to do John. I really don't like not knowing!" He let his tears fall against the headstone. His chest rose and fell as he sobbed quietly.

"What would you do? If you were in my situation?" He asked the stone. "When you were in my situation?" He waited for a response he knew wouldn't come. "You'd go on with life and get engaged?" He forced a smile. "That's not the life for me John."

He lay on his back, hands folded over his chest. He spoke to himself as though he was talking to a friend. "I wish you could see the sky John." He smiled. "The sunset is beautiful." He watched the purple and orange sky fade behind the trees. "I used to be alone before you, you know that right? I thought being alone was best, but I don't like it anymore John. I miss you."

He continued to lay as the stars rose high in the sky. "You still there John?" He paused for a moment. "Good" Sherlock rested his head on his hands and smiled. "I know, I know, I shouldn't be out here, I don't mind John."

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock shot up, frightened by the sudden voice. He squinted through the darkness at the oncoming figure. "Anderson" he groaned and laid back down.

"Sorry" he paused. "I'll leave if you want."

"No" Sherlock pouted. "Why are you here."

"Came to pay my private respects to John, not really private I guess." Anderson sat cross legged beside Sherlock and placed a single rose at the grave. "You're here for the same?"

"Nope"

"Then why?"

"A place to be alone."

"I can leave" Anderson began to stand but Sherlocks hand cuffed his ankle.

"Please don't"

Anderson sat back down and in silence the boys remained beside he grave. Anderson examined Sherlock. His hair was an unusual mess and his clothes weren't as classy as he was used to, barely a step up from when he had been on drugs. His concrete face was stained with tears. He could tell Sherlock was lonely. "My wife left me" he sighed.

"Why do I care?"

"You don't." He glanced at the headstone.

"Sally isn't answering your calls." Sherlock sat up.

"How'd you-?"

"You're nervously feeling at your phone, waiting for a call, I'd say from your wife but by the lack of empathy you could care less about that."

"Could've been subtle" Anderson coughed.

"Don't be getting sick!" Sherlock jumped.

"I'm fine. Sherlock are you okay?"

"Yes" he collected himself. "Just-"

"Broken?"

"Void"

Anderson was at a loss of words. He had never guess that Sherlock Holmes was capable of caring for another human being. He had always seen him as a self centered man, getting off on his cases. But John had softened him up quite a bit, John had made Sherlock somewhat human. Anderson stood up and offered his hand to Sherlock who reluctantly took it. "Let's get you home."

The walked in silence down the dark London streets until they reached Baker Street. Anderson stopped as Sherlock walked to the door. Sherlock paused for a moment before turning back to face Anderson. "There's an extra bedroom upstairs."


	5. Chapter 5

"It was the cousin."

"The cousin?"

"Of course it was the cousin!"

"That makes no logical sense!"

"Family blood but not name, male, close proximity of age, similar facial structure, explains hight difference and DNA match."

"Anderson that was brilliant!" Sherlock shouted.

"I will never get tired of hearing that." He shrugged.

"This is weird" Lestrade crossed his arms. "This is not right. How the hell do you two become friends when less than a year ago Sherlock hated you?"

"Piss off" Anderson laughed and turned his attention to Sherlock. "Have you eaten yet today?"

"Nope"

"Let's go get something and stop by to see John."

They grabbed take out and walked through the fall air to the cemetery. Orange and red leaves fell around them, each step they took caused a refreshing crunch. They brushed a patch of grass clean and sat beside the marble stone engraved with Johns name.

"You'll never believe Anderson actually solved the cause today." Sherlock took a bite of his sandwich and spoke with a full mouth. "I mean the cousin? Who would've thought that?"

Anderson smiled and ate silently. He didn't want to interrupt Sherlock. Through the past few months they had been coming here once a week to let Sherlock express himself. Anderson found it a bit odd but he allowed it to happen and played along when he was asked too. He had been grateful to Sherlock after all. He had given him a place to stay after he was kicked out, and Sherlock and him had actually got along quite well, to the surprise of everyone.

Sherlock however was constantly on a case, dragging Anderson with him, the only free time he got was at the cemetery, were they would spend hours. Anderson had thought more than once about calling for an intervention, or a test of Sherlocks mind, but watching his smile as he spoke to the wind made him give up the thought.

Anderson watched Sherlock talk about his past week, talk about his cases, his experiments. And although all the words flew over his head, he knew John would be listening. Occasionally Anderson would feel guilty, feeling like he had replaced John. But after these meetings at his grave, he knew that nobody could fill the hole in Sherlocks heart.

"A year since I last saw you" Sherlock muttered. "I miss you John." And with that the air fell silent. Not another word was spoken that visit. They finished their food and made their way back to 221B.  
_

Anderson sat on the couch, he was forbidden from even touching Johns chair. "Hear anything from Mary lately?"

"Nope" Sherlock had been waiting however. Waiting to hear anything about her or his goddaughter. He was still deathly worried about Reign and he had begun to feel attached to Mary as well.

"Sherlock" mrs Hudson's voice rang from downstairs. "The doorbell!"

"Just a case" Anderson shouted down. "Let them in."

Sherlock continued to work on his experiment, ignoring mrs Hudson completely.

"Got a boyfriend?" A girls voice rang from the doorway.

"Uncle Sherlock!" Reign ran up to his practically knocking him off his feet.

"Reign?" Sherlock jumped, shocked to see her. Reign had grown, able to walk on her own. Her blonde hair had grown and now reached the middle of her back. Sherlock picked her up and spun her around. "Mary why are you here?"

Mary was silent for a moment before grabbing Reign form Sherlocks arms and setting her on the floor. "Go play with uncle Sherlocks new boyfriend."

Anderson laughed. "Oh I'm not his-"

"Shut up Anderson."

"I am his-"

"Stop talking!" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Is something wrong?" He whispered to Mary.

"The tumor." She sighed.

"What about it?" Sherlock was hesitant but wrapped his arm around Mary.

"It's growing," she paused. "it's cancerous."

"Mary, I'm so-"

"Don't speak Sherlock." She wiped tears from her eyes. "Just forgive me for ignoring you the past year."

"Mary, I'd give you a place but with-"

"Your boyfriend." Mary laughed, lightening the mood. "Please Sherlock, we just got evicted last night."

"You two can have my bed I'll take he couch." Sherlock gave her a solemn look. "Do you need anything else? Food? Anything?"

"It's been a year." She sighed as she watched Anderson amuse her daughter with cheesy jokes and magic tricks. "I miss him."

"I know." Sherlock hugged her tight. "I do too." He released his arm and joined Anderson on the floor. "They will be joining us." He whispered.

"Uh, alright but I'm, I'm not really, uh good with uh children" Anderson stuttered.

"Oh you'll do fine." He patted him on he back. "Me and Mary will be back" he grabbed Mary's hand and dragged her out the door, leaving Anderson alone with Reign"

"Sherlock!" He jumped to the window and shouted. "Don't leave me!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Sherlock where are we going?" Mary laughed as Sherlock dragged her behind him.

"On a date"

"A date? Whoa whoa whoa stop." Mary went back on her heels and pulled Sherlock to a halt.

"Yes a date!" He looked at her confused. "Isn't that what people do?"

"Yes but-"

"Good let's go!" He took off again.

Mary kept her mouth shut and raced after him. She was confused yet flattered. She followed Sherlock to a corner restaurant and to a small table near the table. The restaurant wasn't fancy but Mary didn't mind. There was a lit candle in the middle of the table. Mary picked up her menu and scanned it. "Why are we doing this Sherlock?"

"A date." He surveyed his own menu.

"But why?" She laughed.

"A date, that's what two people do when they like each other."

Their eyes met and Mary saw the sincerity on his face. Her late husbands best friend was taking her on a date and confessing his attraction to her. She felt herself blush. They ordered and waited in silence for their food. "You aren't accustom to this are you?" Mary laughed.

"Nope" Sherlock looked at the tables around them. "But I've seen it."

"What have you seen?"

"The way people act when they fall victim to human nature." He sighed.

"How do they act?" Mary provoked him with a smile on her face.

"Stupid." Sherlock looked up at her an winked.

"And what about you Mr Holmes how do you act when you fall victim to human nature?" She leaned over the tabled closer to him.

Without a word Sherlock leaned closer to her and pressed his lips gently on hers. Mary was shocked but kissed him back. As Sherlock pulled away he smiled. "Stupid."

Mary's face shone bright red. She hid her smile behind her hand and couldn't help but release a slight giggle. Sherlock watched her go giddy. He found it warming and he wanted to see it more often. He loved it when Mary was happy. Sherlock couldn't help himself from smiling at her while they ate their dinner.

As the moon rose in the sky Sherlock and Mary left hand in hand. "That was sweet." Mary smiled.

"It's just what people do." Sherlock shrugged.

"Well you are not a typical person." Mary wrapped her arm around Sherlocks waist. "And I don't mind that."

Sherlock smiled as he led her to the cemetery, a place he had already been today. "I'd like to speak to John if you don't mind."

"Johns dead Sherlock." Mary shrugged and let go of him. "Please don't remind me of him."

"We can't let him be forgotten" Sherlock knelt by the grave.

"No we can't, but you don't need to talk like he's here Sherlock he's not!"

"Do you believe in heaven?"

"No and neither did you I thought?"

"I don't." He sighed. "Hi John"

"Oh for Christ sake Sherlock! Why ruin a perfect date?"

"I'm sorry buddy," Sherlock ignored Mary and spoke to the headstone. "but I need to take care of her"

"Sherlock!" She shouted trying to get her attention.

Sherlock stood up and brushed the grass off his knees. "Let's go."

"What was that for?" She asked running to catch up to him.

"Just needed an apology quick." He smiled

"You are a sociopath!"

"Nice terminology"

Upon arriving at Baker Street Reign ran to her mother and Anderson ran to Sherlock. Both wrapped their arms around them. "Don't leave me with children."

"Anderson you clearly are overreacting"

"Mummy! Philip is so much fun!"

Anderson gave Sherlock a sunken smile. "I just missed you."

"You sure he's not your boyfriend?" Mary laughed.

"More like a puppy" Sherlock said as he looked down at the grown man with his arms wrapped around his legs. "Down boy"

Anderson stood up and cleared his throat. "Sorry" he smiled and headed for the stairs. "I'm out for the night."

"Night"

"Goodnight"

"It's off to bed for you too Reign." Mary picked her up. "Kisses" Reign pucker her lips and kissed her mother.

Reign held her arms out and Sherlock grabbed her. "Are we sleeping over?" She asked excitedly.

"For now." Mary smiled and grabbed her back. "Goodnight Sherlock." She carried her into Sherlocks bedroom.

"Goodnight Reign" he shouted and flopped into his chair.

He stared across from him at the untouched chair. He could imagine John sitting there and he remembered the stag night before Johns wedding and the drunken games they had played. He smiled as he remembered how John had given him himself, how clever. He also recalled the countless cases they had heard while sitting in their chairs, even Mary had been a client for a moment. Sherlock examined the chair for hours, ignoring Marys trip to the bathroom and her shower. He simply watched the chair, as if expecting John to appear, with a smile on his face, ready for a case.

Sherlock longed to go back to the grave and to talk to John. He paused for a moment and thought. What if he didn't have to go to the grave? What if there was a way he could physically talk to John without leaving his flat. He knew that talking to thin air wouldn't suffice, it wouldn't calm his nerves as talking to the burial site had. An idea swiped over his mind and he quickly rushed up the stairs and burst into Anderson's room.

"The fuck!" Anderson jumped and quickly pulled his blanket over his waist.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see that." Sherlock collected himself and flicked on the light. "Get up"

"Give me a minute." He gasped for air. "You don't just burst in."

"You don't just masturbate without locking a door."

"Shut up Sherlock." Anderson climbed out of the bed and stretched his arms. "What do you want?"

"Come"

"Pardon?"

"Come with me" he clarified.

"Oh, give me a second." He grabbed a pair of pants from his drawer and flung on a sweatshirt.

"Let's go"

He followed Sherlock out into the late night darkness. They walked in silence until he could no longer keep in his questions. "Where are we going?"

"Cemetery"

"Now? Sherlock this is getting out of hand."

"How long does it take for skin and tissue to decompose?"

"About a year why?" Anderson scratched his head as he spoke.

"Deduce." Sherlock continued on. Anderson followed, a mess of confusion as Sherlock turned to him and stopped suddenly. "Stay here" he ordered and ran inside a dimly lit building. He was out within a matter of minutes with two shovels in hand.

"Uh Sherlock?"

"Go before we get caught."

"Did you just-"

"Come Anderson" Sherlock was well ahead of him. Anderson ran after and caught up as soon as they arrived at Johns grave. Sherlock dug the shovel into the grass and stepped on it to dig in deeper. He pulled a chunk of land out and did it again. "I could use some help" he groaned.

"Sherlock are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Nope." He continued to dig. "Help?"

Anderson rolled his eyes but began to dig with Sherlock. The men dug until they hit the smooth wooden surface of the casket. "Hop out" Sherlock ordered as he pried open the lid.

Johns skeleton lay still covered in slight tissue and clothes in the process of deteriorating. Anderson watched from above as Sherlock crouched for a moment simply staring at his friend. "I'm sorry John." He mumbled then began to torque the skull.

"Sherlock?" Anderson winced. "This is wrong."

"Shut up Anderson." He pulled at the skull harder with no result. With one last pull he detached the skull from the spine. Shelrock gently set the skull beside Anderson and closed the casket. "Fill it up." He said immediately as he climbed out. "Quick before sunrise.

Anderson stepped out of site of the skull, slightly frightened by Sherlocks endeavor. He helped however, filling the hole they had created. The sun began to peak over the top of the grass as they finished the burial. Sherlock shoved the two shovels behind a tree and grabbed Johns skull. As they quickly walked home Sherlock worked at picking off the last remaining tendons and skin from the skull causing Anderson's stomach to churn. "Don't tell anyone" Sherlocks eyes met him dead on as he cradled the skull. "I will simply replace Billy with him, keep Billy upstairs."

"Billy?"

"My other skull."

"Why was Billy?" Anderson shouted but collected himself. "I don't want a skull under my bed!"

"Billy was my girlfriend"

"You had a girlfriend?"

"She killed herself."

"Oh," Anderson stared at his feet.

"Her mother gave me full rights to study her dead body, so I took the skull."

"Interesting?"

"She listened."

"Ya?"

They arrived at the flat and Sherlock quickly swapped the skulls and sent Anderson up with Billy. He then proceeded to throw himself onto the couch and get as much sleep as he could before he would be awaken by his goddaughter.


	7. Chapter 7

Things had gone well for another year or so. Reign grew and began attending a prescreening school. Sherlock had successfully hid his new skull from the others. Anderson continued to work with Sherlock. And Mary had begun to fall in love with the consulting detective. Sherlock had everything he could ask for, except for John being alive.

Sherlock examined a sample of tissue under a high pressure microscope. He was eager to determine how long this body had been laying in the backstreets. As he fiddled around making the picture clear, Anderson paced the lab. "What is it?" Sherlock muttered without looking up from his examination.

"Nothing."

"Anderson you are a horrible lier."

"You should put the skull back" he murmured.

"He's a friend."

"Sherlock?"

"What? What? Can't you see I'm working?"

Anderson simply waited for Sherlock to look up, and once he did pointed to the door where detective inspector Greg Lestrade stood with his arms crossed. "A skull?" He asked.

"Yes! Yes a skull what is so strange about that?" Sherlock stood up. "What do you want?"

"I have a court order for you." Lestrade stepped forward and handed it to him.

"This is a request to go to a psychiatrist?"

"Not a request and order, people are worried about you."

"I don't need to-" Sherlock paused and turned around. "Anderson!" He screamed.

"It's for your own safety Sherlock."

"Shut up Anderson!" Sherlock examined the date on the paper. "Tonight?"

"Court ordered" Lestrade reminded him. "I can give you a ride if you need it."

"Yes, thank you" Sherlock forced a smile and went back to his work, ignoring the others.

Sherlock sat in the brightly colored office. Across from him sat a girl, cross legged and stern looking. She held a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. "Good evening Mr Holmes." She smiled. Sherlock sat silently, glancing around the office. "Mind if I ask a few questions?"

"As many as you asked your husband last night?"

"Pardon?"

Don't be rude! "Excuse me, go ahead"

"Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Nothing of major importance."

"Then I would like to address the problems your friends are worried about."

"I don't have friends."

"Okay your colleagues" she corrected herself with an eye roll. "A colleague of yours died about two years ago?"

"He was a friend."

"Tell me about him."

"What is it you want to know?" Sherlock tried hard to avoid all questions.

"Let's start with his name"

"John Watson."

"How did you two meet?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment. "I was at work, and a medical advisor brought him in, John offered me his phone to use so I could message Gavin."

"And you two became friends then?"

"No, we became flat mates. We became closer after a case together and he sh-" Sherlock took a deep breath. "And he very well may have saved my life, but we still weren't friends."

"When did you become friends?"

"It happened gradually"

"I'm going to address the next subject now." She jotted a quick note on the paper. "You talk to a skull?"

"It's a friend."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It listens."

"Mr Holmes this is unhealthy."

"No it's not normal, and I don't like being normal" Sherlock stood up. "Great chatting with you but I am leaving now."

"The court ordered-"

"Don't care." He swung on his coat and stormed out in a fuss.

Sherlock had felt uncomfortable, being pried and picked at, he assumed that was how people felt when he examined them. He wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go. He could go home, he could go visit Johns body, he could go back to work, in retrospect he could go anywhere. But he chose to simply wander. He searched for anybody he may know. He caught glimpse of Molly, dressed up quite nicely. Pretty girl. He watched her great her date and walk into a restaurant.

Sherlock couldn't control his curiosity as he joined the restaurant and watched. Molly had a history of strange boyfriends, one had tried to kill Sherlock and the other looked quite similar to him. Sherlock couldn't make out who she was with this time, he could only see the back of his head, grey hair, an aging man. Molly must be too young for him.

Sherlock knew he had to interfere, to save his precious Molly. He walked up behind her. "Oh my dear I've missed you." He faked an accent and kissed her cheek.

"Sherlock?" Molly pushed him away

"Sherlock?" The boy spoke. A familiar voice that Sherlock recognized. He turned to see Lestrade sitting across the table from Molly.

"Greg?"

Lestrade paused for a moment, shocked Sherlock knew his name. "We are on a date."

"You two?"

"What are you doing here Sherlock?" Molly asked, slightly embarrassed at the crowd of eyes Sherlock had attracted.

"I thought he was an older guy, just protecting you."

"I don't need protection Sherlock."

"Look at your previous men!"

"Leave Sherlock." Lestrade stood up. "Before I do something I'll regret"

"You won't do-"

Before Sherlock could finish his sentence Lestrade punched him square in the nose. Sherlock collected himself and looked at the man he thought was incapable of violence. It turns out people aren't quite as simple as they seem. Sherlock stood up and through the staring crowd left the restaurant without a word.

He continued to walk the dark streets, alone. He had nowhere to go, nowhere be wanted to go. He wanted a friend, someone to talk to, who would talk back but not sound stupid, that friend was John.

Sherlock waited to return to 221B until he was sure Mary and Reign would be asleep. He crept inside as not to startle mrs Hudson. He ran up the stairs as quite as possible and snatched the skull off the fireplace. He sat cross legend on the floor and set John across form him. "Today has been hell" he sighed. "Got nowhere in my work, had to talk to a very stuck up woman, and got punched by Greg." He stared at the skull. "He punches harder than you."

Sherlock scooted closer to the fire and pulled the skull with him. "I was gone for two years" he sighed. "And I was still alive." He took a deep breath. "It's been two years, where are you?" He let his tears fall as he grabbed the skull, hugging it tight in his arms. "John please come back! I need you"

"Brother mine."

Sherlock looked up and through his veil of tears saw Mycroft. "Am I having a run in with everyone today?" Sherlock wiped his eyes. "What is it you want?"

"My little brother hasn't talked to me for months,ni was beginning to worry." Mycroft leaned in his umbrella.

"You never worry" Sherlock stood up and placed the skull on the mantle.

"Dismembering a human body is wrong." Mycroft shook his head as he stepped further into the room. "But dismembering the body of your friend is just plain rude"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"That skull belongs to the late John Watson." Mycroft stepped up to examine it. "Quite good condition."

"Don't touch my skull!" Sherlock shouted.

Mycroft backed away in laughter. "Bad day?"

"You wouldn't believe" Sherlock slouched into his chair.

"Mummy is worried about you Sherlock"

"What did I do?"

"Being so- distant"

"No more than usual"

"Yes" Mycroft stood by his brother. "You've always been the one who was closer to them Sherlock, and now you aren't"

"Shut up Mycroft"

"Brother mine. Keep yourself safe and sane."

"You shouldn't care." Sherlock stood up. "Leave me to my skull" Mycroft turned and left without a word.

Sherlock put Johns skull on his chair and sat in his own. "Sorry about him" he sighed. "You know how he can be so rude." He crossed his legs. "Don't you agree John?" He pulled a book out from behind him and began to read. "Oh did you want one?" He pulled another down and set it on the chair beside the skull. "That one is written quite well, unlike some books."

He sat by the fire reading for hours until sleep finally got the best of him, he set the skull up on the mantle again and laid on the couch, where he eventually drifted off.


	8. Chapter 8

"Sherlock!" He was jerked awake by Marys screaming.

"What is it?" He yawned, struggling to get untangled from his blankets.

"Reign!"

Sherlock got out of the blankets just in time for paramedics to race up the stairs. They ran to his room and returned with Reign on a gurney and rushed out again. Mary walked out of the room with tears in her eyes. "What is going on?" Sherlock asked assessing the situation.

"Reign won't wake up!"

"You mean she's dead?"

"No she's breathing and her heart is beating but she won't wake up."

"A coma?"

"I don't know!" Mary shouted through her tears. "Let's go!"

They sat in the hospital room, staring down at the once lively child, now hooked up to machines to keep her breathing. Her heart monitor was slow and steady, and her chest rose and fell with hesitation. They waited for any sign from a doctor, any words of advice or sympathy.

Mary held onto her daughter hand while she hid her face in Sherlocks shoulder. "I wanted to have a family again." She cried. "I wanted us to be happy."

"I'm sorry Mary." Was all Sherlock could say as his eyes refused to advert from his goddaughter.

"Mrs Watson, Mr Holmes." A tall doctor entered and nodded politely. "I'm here to discuss possibilities for your daughter." He sat down in a chair at the edge of the bed. He was upset sherlock could tell but his voice was lively as his job entitled him to stay optimistic and positive. "What would you like to see done?"

"I want her happy" Mary sobbed.

"We have a few options, first option is we keep her hooked up as look as possible and hope she awakes." He paused. "Second we can attempt surgery on the tumor but it is likely it will kill her." He paused again. "And lastly we can unhook her and let fate run it's course.

Mary looked at Sherlock, who simply nodded, encouraging her to trust her gut. "Attempt the surgery" she sighed.

"We will begin immediately, if you two would please wait out in the waiting room that would be wonderful. We will try our best Mrs Watson."

They waited all night for news. Until a stout nurse entered the dimly lit room. "I'm sorry mrs Watson, we tried out best."

Shelrock watched as the tiny casket was laid beside her fathers. The second person who meant something in his life was gone, and he broke down again in a flood of tears. He held Mary who was unable to control herself and started screaming at everyone who had attended the funeral, especially Harry.

"You've never been there for him until his fucking death! You ignore us and now you're back for Reigns death?"

"Mary." Harry slurred.

"John was right you are nothing but a filthy drunk!"

"Mary." Sherlock pulled her away "it's not worth it"

"Leave me alone Sherlock!" She screamed, "just go home and leave me alone!"

Sherlock listened and left the newly placed grave and walked back to his flat. He pulled down Johns skull and placed it on the chair. "How is Reign? Is she safe? Healthy? Happy?" He cried. "I guess I couldn't take care of either of you!"

Sherlocks phone rang causing him to jump form his seat. "What?" He answered without seeing who it was.

"Hey it's me" Anderson sighed.

"I can tell"

"I'm moving out I think, I'm sorry Sherlock but you've gone crazy." He hung up the phone, leaving Sherlock alone.

All that was left in the flat was him and mrs Hudson, he knew she was kind hearted but he also knew she would need the money to remain living here, money sherlock didn't have much of. He looked his phone and dreaded his decision. He held the phone up and slowly dialed the numbers, each number he sunk deeper and deeper into despair.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft answered on a concerned voice.

"I need a place to stay."

"I'll send a car." Mycroft hung up and Sherlock went to pack. He couldn't bring everything and he knew it. He grabbed a backpack from under his bed and threw in Johns skull, a few books, and a simple change if clothes. He but his coat and scarf on and continued to shove as much as he could into the old tattered bag then he waited on the front step of 221B until a black car pulled up.

He climbed in the back beside Anthea. He was silent and stared out the tinted windows. "The other one talked more." Anthea smiled as she typed in her phone.

"Oh" Sherlock sighed, remembering how years ago John had told him about his encounter with Mycroft. "How is he?" Anthea looked up in confusion as Sherlock pointed to her phone. "Your boyfriend."

"I don't have one." She smiled.

"Obviously."

"You are just like your brother." She laughed.

"Only smarter. How is he in bed?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh it's obvious Anthea." Sherlock focused back on the window. "His mood changed immensely after you to shag."

"I'm not fooling around with Mycroft." She blushed.

"No, I suppose it's not fooling around when you're engaged." He noticed the silver band on her left ring finger.

"I'm not engaged." She winced, trying to hide something.

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not"

"Yes you-"

"William Shelrock Scott Holmes!" Mycroft shouted from Antheas phone. "Stop being a child.

Shelrock grabbed the phone and held it close to his mouth and whispered. "Why didn't you tell me brother mine?"

"I have nothing to tell" Mycroft responded in a soft collected voice.

"You are engaged." Sherlock felt a smile creep onto his face.

"Am not"

"Are to"

"No, Sherlock I am not."

"How was it last night?" Sherlock smirked.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock laughed and handed the phone back to Anthea who took it off speaker and spoke softly into it. Sherlock watched the street go by. He knew his life had been changing since John left, but he never thought he would have to love with his brother again. Even if this was just temporary. Him and Mycroft had a difficult childhood, they hadn't gotten alone well, there was a large age gap after all, but for a few years Mycroft was excited about his new brother, but that excitement quickly faded into distance. They didn't hate each other, it was far from hate, they simply loved each other too much to show it.

After Sherlock had taken an interest in drugs as a teenager, Mycroft had disowned him. They had gone years without contact and Sherlock would simply lay on the couch, for hours, even days in end, with his eyes glazed over and distant. Mycroft had hated seeing him this way, seeing him fall victim to dangerous things.

Since Sherlock had gone onto solving crimes as an alternative to getting high, Mycroft had slowly been letting himself get close to his brother again. Although he feared constantly about him falling back into old habits or getting hurt.

They arrived at Mycroft's house which was quite large. He was waiting outside with his arms crossed. Anthea walked up and stood beside him, her face no longer buried in her phone. Sherlock grabbed his bag and hopped out of the car. "Mycroft" he nodded.

"Come in" Mycrift sighed and led the way.

"If she's simply a personal assistant why doesn't she go home? I had my little experiment with one if them as well" Sherlock smiled at them.

"She's a live in." Mycroft spoke monotonously. "More money but it's worth it."

"You pay her to live with you?" Sherlock asked more to himself. "Interesting."

Mycroft led him through the house, quickly announcing each room until they arrived at the back of the house, the room was small but Sherlock liked it. It was stacked to the ceiling with books, there was a single person bed and a desk in the corner. He threw the bag on the bed and sat down himself.

"You can stay as long as you want." Mycroft looked down at his brother. "I don't mind"

"I do" Sherlock leaned back and closed his eyes. "Leave."

Sherlock laid on the mattress until his bladder got the best of him. He hadn't known the time, nor did he remember the direction. He stumbled for a moment trying to regain balance after hours of being frozen in bed. He walked through the hall until he found the loo. As he went he heard a moaning from the room adjacent. "Mycroft!" It was a female scream.

Sherlock let his curiosity run as he attempted to open the door to Mycroft's bedroom, it was unlocked. He opened the door slowly as Mycroft and Anthea struggled to cover themselves up with a thin black sheet. "Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted with anger.

"I knew it." Sherlock smirked.

Mycroft struggled to catch his breath as he held Anthea. He glared at Sherlock, pure anger in his eyes. "Get out!"

"Oh carry on." Sherlock laughed and made his way back down the hall. He smirked, happy to know his assumption had been correct. He climbed back into the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"That was uncalled for" Mycroft entered the room,he crossed his arms and scoulded his brother.

"Just shows I know what I talk about" Sherlock laughed.

"Since Johns been gone you are going mad Sherlock"

"No I'm not I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you're not"

"I miss him." Sherlock sighed and sat up so Mycroft had more room.

"I know" with hesitation Mycroft wrapped his arm around his brother an hugged him as he sobbed in his chest.

Sherlocks life began strictly scheduled, forced to life of of Mycroft's schedule, up at six to eat, off to work by seven, finished by seven that night, dinner at eight, and the rest of the night was free. Sherlock had been used to working at odd hours of the night and every now and then he would sneak out just for fresh air.

It was becoming dark and Sherlock waited for food. He had been on a case but his brother made him eat. He held Johns skull and fiddled it between his hands. He was alone in Mycrofts study. There was a warm fire to his right, the only light in the room. He watched as the fire danced off of Johns dull white skull, he found it strangely beautiful. He was nearly hypnotized by it.

"Sherlock?" He was greeted by a familiar voice.

"John?" Sherlock jumped from his seat and surveyed the room. It was empty. He sat back down in disappointment. Was he simply imagining it. His mind raced with any other voices he could've mistaken for his friend. But none came to mind. He wanted bad to go back to 221B, but until he had a flat mate, he couldn't.

Shelrock made his way to the dinning hall. Anthea and Mycroft sat hand in hand and across from them was Mary. Sherlock couldn't help himself as he ran up to her and scooped her into his arms. "Mary!" He shouted in excitement.

"Sherlock" she hugged him as he held her like a babe.

"I missed you!" He forgot the presence of his brother. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there" she smiled as he set her down. "But I was drawn back here, I stopped by Baker Street first, mrs Hudson said you are welcome back whenever."

"I can get you two a ride as soon as you need one." Mycroft chimed in, anxious to get rid of his brother and get back to his love life.

"Now would be wonderful." He smirked. "Let me get my stuff." He ran off leaving the three of them in the dinning room.

"Thank you." Mycroft sighed.

"I came as soon as you called, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Thought he would realize sooner." Mycroft coughed. "About missing out on life."

"I'll fix him up." Mary smiled.

"Thank you." Anthea was very greatful. "He is a psychopath."

"High functioning sociopath, shall we go?" Sherlock held his bag under his arm, the same one he had arrived with months ago.

"Of course." Mary held out her hand and Sherlock gladly took it.

In the car Mary attempted to keep a conversation going. "What have you been up to?"

"Cases" Sherlock spoke without taking his eyes off hers. "talking to my skull, the usual."

"Mycroft said you talked to it more than usual." Mary bit her lower lip.

"Not anymore." He sighed.

"Did you leave it?"

"No it's in my bag, but now I have you."

"I will be gone a lot Sherlock, I have a lot of work to do."

"I know" he nodded. "At least now I know you're safe."

"Don't worry about me Sherlock"

"Too late."

"I shot you." She reminded him.

"Out of kindness." He smiled, slightly confused by his own words.

"No, out of fear." She sighed "instinct, anger, anything but kindness."

"I already know Mary, and I'm alive, everything happened out fine."

"More or less" they arrived at their destination and climbed out of the black car that raced off as soon as they got off the street.

"I don't know about that." Sherlock wanted badly to reach over and grab Mary's hand. "Mind if I do a quick experiment?" He set down his bag.

"Now?"

"Preferably."

"Sure I-"

Before she could finish her sentence Sherlock swung her over his knee and kissed her, dipping her body back and letting her hair fall out of place. He supported her with his arms and knee and kissed her passionately. She flung her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair, gently playing with the curls. As Sherlock pulled her back up she pulled him by his coat and kissed him again. Sherlock could feel his face blush red, his last, romance, if you could even call it that, had been Janine, and he had felt no personal or physical attachment to her, Irene, the woman, however he had enjoyed her company and her intellect. But the way he felt with Marys lips against his was something he had never felt before.

They continued to kiss outside of 221B, the darkness surrounding him. Sherlock, sensing Mary was cold I bottomed his coat and pulled her closer to him in order to wrap it around them both. Mary wrapped her arms around Sherlock waist and his her face in his chest. After their moment together they entered the flat.

"Sherlock!" Hudson screamed in pleasure.

"Mrs Hudson, good to see I was missed." He smirked.

"Oh and Mary is back!" She hugged them both. "Now behave" she laughed and ran back into her kitchen.

"Come on." Mary grabbed Sherlocks hand and led him upstairs. She passed the living room and headed straight for the bedroom. Sherlock set down his bag as Mary jumped onto the bed. "Come on." She laughed again.

"Mary." Sherlock smiled. He knew what she wanted but he was unsure if he wanted it as well.

"What's wrong?" She pouted her lips. "Don't want me?"

"I do" he admited. "Just not now." He slipped off his shoes, coat, and scarf. He wiggled out of his pants and into a baggy pair of sweats. He took off his dark purple shirt button by button until it fell of his arms. Digging through his wardrobe he found his blue robe and slid it on over his bare chest, tying it loose however so it fell slightly off.

"Now I want it worse." Mary laughed. "Please Sherlock."

"I don't know." He walked to the window. He felt guilty about his urges. He wanted badly, so badly, to crawl into bed and have fun with Mary. But he respected her, and he respected John, dead or not he knew it would be wrong to have sex with his wife. Sherlock flicked off the light and crawled into his bed, dragging the blankets over his head. In slight disappointment Mary covered herself up as well. Sherlock, feeling bad for not giving into her wants rolled over to face her and rested his arm over her body. They fell asleep cuddling like a couple in love.

Sherlock awoke to an empty bed and had to focus for a minute to remember if he was at Mycrofts or his place. After his realization he stumbled out of the room, his hair a ball of messy curls that stuck up and out in odd locations. Mary sat at the table reading through the news. "Good morning" she smiled. Sherlock simply waved as he was still waking up. He grabbed the cup of coffee mrs Hudson had set out for him and drank the burning liquid. "I have to get going." Mary kissed his forehead. "I'll be home later." She rushed out the door but not before blowing him a kiss.

Sherlock picked up the paper Mary had been reading from and began to flip through it.

"Sherlock" Johns voice rang through the flat.

"Not real." Sherlock smacked his head.

"What do you mean not real?"

Shelrock looked up to see John sitting on the stool beside him. "John!?" He jumped back and shouted.

"Nope" John shook his head. After a moment of Sherlocks wide eye stare he spoke again. "That was sarcasm. Of course it's me?"

"But you-" Sherlock reached out, expecting his hand to go through Johns chest, but instead it rested above his heart. "-died"

"I'm here Sherlock."

"Impossible."

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth" John quoted Sherlock from years ago.

"I haven't eliminated the impossible yet"

"I'm here Sherlock."

"No you aren't." He stood up and walked over to the skull.

"Granted you're the only one who can see me." John followed him. "And hear me"

"So you are imaginary."

"Maybe" John sat in his chair.

"Sherlock!" Molly's voice screamed from down the stairs. As skin as it was heard Johns image faded.

"Somebody better be dead!" Sherlock shouted, annoyed her presence had frightened away John.

"Lestrade has been shot!"


	9. Chapter 9

Death was becoming something Sherlock had become accustom to. He suspected at the drop of a hat, that any of his friends, family, or colleagues could die.

Death.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and thought about it. Death what a strange word, a strange idea. Death was never called for, yet it takes us all in the end. Sherlock began to long for death, for pain, for a chance to feel something other than loneliness.

He had lost John, Reign, Lestrade, and Molly to the cold hands of death. Who was next? Mary? Anderson? Mycroft? He didn't want to think about it but he did anyway.

Sherlock, against all better judgement dug behind the couch. Searching for the morphine he had been hiding for years. He drank some, allowing his head to clear and his vision to blur slightly. He leaned back in his chair and let himself relax, the first time in years.

He had missed the feeling of being weightless, mindless, and numb. As he relaxed in his chair he let life go on outside of him. He knew bodies were moving vigorously on the streets below, he knew they all had stresses of their own, but were moving on with the burden, they were indeed stronger than him. He suspected that Mrs. Hudson and Mary would be up to check on him soon, he couldn't do anything about it but stumble over from his chair, to the couch. He sat and fell backwards, a large grin on his face. He stared at the ceiling, playing connect the dots with the plaster bumps scattered here and there. Death fogged his mind again, but this time, the thoughts seemed pleasant. He could imagine how easily death would get him, swallow him up into its dark void existence.

"Sherlock!" Johns voice ricocheted off the walls of the flat. Sherlock smiled, happy to hear his old friend. "Sherlock, can you hear me?" Sherlock nodded slightly, his eyes still pasted on the ceiling, his body not moving.

"Martha is this normal?" John screamed in fear.

Sherlock reached his arm slowly up towards the ceiling. He had hit the morphine a bit too hard, and was becoming incoherent. He tried to roll, to see John, but his body rejected the attempt and he was pinned in place. He began to scream, shouting Johns name, his form of calling help. His mind was quickly going black and his body refused any struggle to move.

"Call someone!" John shouted. Sherlock was able to focus for a moment as he saw John leaned over him, a look of shock on his face. But as his vision blurred John faded into Mary, tears filling her eyes. "Stay with me Sherlock!"

That was the first time Sherlock attempted suicide. He had thought about it, and came close, but until that day he had never gone through with it. Within the next year he had tried twenty-four more times. The attempts ranged from drugs to taking a gun to his own head. But each time something had stopped him from leaving earth.

He became a pressure point to the remaining people in his life. They refused to let him be alone, and he was under constant quarantine. Mary had weekends, Mycroft on Monday and Friday, mrs Hudson Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and Irene had Thursday.

Today was Thursday. Sherlock lay on the couch, a habit he had become accustom to. Irene sat in his chair, reading a book she had started last time she was over. "We can go out." She reminded him.

"Hmm." Sherlock simply sighed.

"You've been indoors for weeks, let's go see the sun."

"What will the sun do to calm me?"

"Proven fact, sunlight helps with depression." Irene set down the book and opened the dust covered curtains. Sherlock shielded his eyes. "Let's go."

"I'm not dressed." Sherlock looked down at his grey sweatpants and oversized blue shirt.

"Get dressed, we can go for a walk."

Sherlock rolled of the couch and stumbled to the bedroom, he hadn't walked on hours and his legs were slightly numb. He changed into his black pants and purple button up shirt. He slipped into his coat and lightly wrapped his scarf. He stepped back into the flat.

"Now there's the Sherlock I like to see." Irene hugged him. "Let's go."

They walked for a while, in silence. Sherlock let the warm sun beat down on him as he listened to shouting children, barking dogs, and typical everyday life. He couldn't say he would miss it however. As they walked he grabbed Irene's hand. She turned to him and smiled. "Irene." Sherlock began, tears collecting in his eyes. "I know you care about me"

"I do" she nodded.

"And I know you want me happy."

"That too" she looked at him, confusion overwhelming her body.

"I'm not happy." He sighed.

"We can all tell." She gripped his hand tighter.

"I want to be happy."

Irene stopped walking and turned to face Sherlock. "How can I help?"

"Turn around and walk home, and let me do what I need to."

"No!" Irene hugged him. "I can't do that, I can't let you."

"Please Irene." he let a tear fall from his eye. "You're the only one I trust." He held both her hands. "Please Irene let me be happy." His eyes pleaded.

"I can't do that Sherlock."

"Please, turn around and walk away" he was completely serious. "Turn around and walk away or I will do it with you watching." He paused. "Please go."

Irene hugged Sherlock tight and stepped back. Tears flooded her eyes as she turned around and quickly walked away.

Sherlock cried silently, he walked the opposite way as her. He walked on until he arrived at an empty bridge. He stood on the ledge and watched the water crash about below him. His feet dangled over so slightly into the air. He smiled as the wind nipped at his face. Sherlock quietly said a prayer and asked for forgiveness from his remaining friends. He knew it would be devastating if he killed himself, but he knew they were all far stronger than him. And he could no longer take the pain, the loss, the heartbreak. He was being selfish, and for once he felt guilty about it. Sherlock reached in his pocket and took out the last of his morphine. He drank it in on swallow and waited for the effect to work. As the numbness slowly crept up his body Sherlock began to regret his decision, but as it reached his brain he couldn't complain, he could no longer resist. His body began to rock slowly back and forth. His head spun in circles as he fell forward into the icy water. The water flowed into his lungs as he struggled to save himself. He knew his decision was wrong, but the morphine stunned his body and the water was closing in. He sank into the water, letting the clear blue liquid take him away, take him to death.

_Hello Sherlock._

_Hello John._


End file.
